Why Now? (24 page)

The sound of a game show wheel spinning makes me blink. Is this a dream?

“That’s loud Reilly. You’ll wake Jake,” Kacey whispers.

Kacey is lying next to me, her front pressed to my side, her arm a warm weight across my stomach. Turning my head, I see Reilly sitting in a chair on the far side of my bed furthest from my door. She’s looking at a TV mounted to the ceiling of my room, a game show on. That accounts for the spinning sound.

“Hey,” I rasp, pleased that speaking doesn’t hurt as much as it did the last time.

“Jake,” Kacey cries, lifting her head and turning it to look down at me.

“Hey, Killer,” I reply.

Her mouth spreads into a soft smile and she dips her face even closer to press her lips to my cheek.

Reilly is out of her chair now, next to the bed, leaning over Kacey. “Does it still hurt to talk?”

“Not as bad,” I murmur.

The first time I woke up, their fear and their anxiety over me was all I could see. This time, I see their relief and their hope that I’m going to be fine.

My voice is still all scratchy but it sounds worse than it is.

“Do you want some water?” Kacey asks, and I nod.

She gets out of bed and I regret nodding. Before I know it, she’s back shifting the oxygen mask to position the straw to my lips. The sip of water sliding down my throat has less scratchiness to it. My body is shaking; it’s dry and remembering again.

I make an effort to lift my hands but it’s still hard. “My hands?” I ask, panic lacing my voice.

Reilly nods and looks at Kacey before looking back at me. “You have some burns. They aren’t awful, which is a miracle considering what happened.

“I can’t lift them,” I explain.

Her eyes widen and she looks down at my hands. “They put these water gel wraps on them and they may feel a little heavy, but nothing was broken.”

Considering her words, I try to lift my hands again, this time mentally prepared that something is weighing them down. They lift right up and shame washes over me at being so scared for nothing.

I turn my head to press against Kacey. All I want to do is pull her into my arms, but I can hardly lift my hands. She needs me and I have to lie here, so close to her but I’m useless.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur and she looks up at me.

“I’m just so happy you’re okay,” she whispers.

“Do you remember what happened?” Reilly asks.

Wincing, I reply, “Yes, and no. I remember making it onto the deck and then into one of the lifeboats. After that, it gets hazy.”

“There was an explosion,” Reilly explains.

“That’s one of the parts I remember,” I reply. “Do they know what caused it?”

She shakes her head. “They’re still trying to determine the cause of the blast.”

Then, I ask the question I’m not sure I want to know the answer to, “Did everyone make it off?”

Her mouth tightens and she straightens but looks down at her feet.

It’s Kacey who answers. “There were three who didn’t.”

Pinching my eyes shut my whole body tenses. Those guys weren’t like regular coworkers you only see nine-to-five. That rig was our home. Every man on it like family.

“Who?” My question comes out in a whoosh.

Reilly looks up from the floor. The last time I saw her eyes look that sad was when Gramps died.

“I don’t know how to tell you,” she croaks, her sad eyes now wet.

Out of everyone that I worked with there’s only one person that could cause that type of reaction from her. It can’t be, though, there’s no way. He got me out.

“Who?” I ask again, this time more forcefully.

My eyes are drawn from Reilly to Kacey when I feel her gentle hands stroke my face. “Brian Vaulk, Fred Brigham—“

Shit, I didn’t know Brian that well. He was newer but I’m pretty sure he had kids, young ones. Freddie had worked on the rig for a couple of years. He was quiet. We teased him and he was always good-natured about it. His dad had cancer. A couple of months ago we all pooled some money together to help him pay for some treatment.

I can’t get why Reilly’s crying
,
though. She’s never met either of those guys and, wait, that’s only two.

“Who was the third?”

Kacey presses her lips together and I know who she’s going to say.

“Erik was one of the—“

Like a fish washed up on the shore, I open and shut my mouth trying to understand why I’m not breathing. The legs of Reilly’s chair make a squeak as she collapses into it, covering her face with her hands.

With a choke, I pull air into my lungs and push it back out with a, “No!”

I say it again, more forcefully, “No!”

“I’m so sorry,” Kacey repeats, now crying.

I shake my head, “He got me out. He can’t be dead. He got me out.”

Reilly’s cries turn into sobs and Kacey gently strokes my face again. “After,” her voice hitches. “He got you to the boat. He went back and got someone else. Then,” her voice hitches and she sniffles, “he went in again to search for any one remaining but didn’t make it out.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

“Noooo,” I groan, squeezing my eyes shut.

He saved my life. He propelled me from hell on earth and then turned around and went back, twice.

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” Kacey whispers.

Fuck!

I don’t believe it. It’s impossible that someone so full of life could be gone. He was the best man I’ve ever worked with. He was always ready with a grin and a joke.

God, half of the shit he thought was funny made no fucking sense because it was Danish. He’d laugh so hard you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

He was saving every penny he made. He was going to go back home and buy his mom and dad a big house. They would send him care packages because it was too expensive for him to fly back or for them to fly out here that often.

God, why Erik?

There are so many fucking assholes on this planet, why do the good guys have to die young?

I shake my head, my body physically rejecting the idea. Reilly continues to cry and it reminds me of the conversation I had with him before I came home this last time.

He said she was beautiful and I had been a dick. If I could turn back the clock and drag him home with me I would have made her date him.

There isn’t a better man I could have hoped for her. He wanted to get married one day. Find a nice girl and settle down to start a family.

Sharing that small space, for that long, we talked about our lives, our hopes, our dreams.

“Are you sure?” I ask, still not ready to believe it.

Kacey nods her head. “An administrator from the rig spoke with us. They wanted to check and see how you were doing and assure us that they’re here for you for whatever you need.”

“I’m not going back there,” I tell them.

Reilly lifts her head and wipes her eyes. “You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. The fire destroyed so much. It’s a miracle the rig itself didn’t sink like that one off of the gulf coast.”

For years, that rig was my home. After that explosion, it’s my nightmare.

We’re interrupted from any further discussion by a nurse I don’t recognize and my doctor. This time, since I’m coherent, she gives me a rundown of the injuries I sustained. Cracked ribs, concussion, second degree burns to my hands and smoke inhalation.

The smoke inhalation was the most serious of them all. She has Reilly and Kacey step outside so she can remove my catheter. When they’re done, they ask me if it’s cool for Kacey and Reilly to come back in. At my assent, they do.

It’ll be a while before I’m fully healed but she wants me to start getting up and move around.

They also remove the water gel packs from my hands and, since my burns are improving, rewrap them in something simpler. Once they’re wrapped, she has me reach and grasp my water cup.

My hands feel itchy when I grip the handle but it’s not painful. Being able to do this myself will be a definite improvement over having to ask Kacey or Riley each time. The nurse has both Kacey and Riley watch as she rewraps my hands. Once I’m discharged, I’ll need one of them to do it for me until I’m healed. Thank fuck I didn’t need a skin graft or anything more extreme for my burns.

Next, they have me shift my weight until my legs are dangling from one side and I’m sitting up without the support of the hospital bed. At first, I get dizzy so they wait while I just sit there.

The pain in my chest is more intense without the support of the bed behind me. My chest is wrapped tightly. I don’t even want to think about what the pain would have been like if I wasn’t bandaged. Once my head clears, with their help, I stand. The dizziness comes again but it’s shorter this time. With a hand at each of my elbows, I make a small circle next to the bed before sitting back down.

They both seem pleased and tell me to rest and, with Kacey and Reilly’s help, do it again in an hour. I was out of it for so long that it’ll take a couple of days for me to start feeling normal again.

Silver lining is, if I don’t pass out or anything between now and tomorrow, there’s a decent chance she can release me. Kacey and Reilly have been crashing at a motel when visiting hours are over. They’re exhausted and so am I.

Other than the times I was drugged, it’s impossible to get any real sleep here. There are announcements always going off in the hallways or some nurse coming to check on me. Plus, I’m not crazy about the food.

I miss Kacey’s bed. I don’t want to have to say goodnight to her again and watch her leave.

As long as I’m here, I keep thinking about the explosion and Erik. Back home there will be more to distract me from it.

Reilly told me about the offer on the house. Rich got a hold of her to let her know how the inspection went. There were only a few small things that needed to be fixed. In any other circumstance, I’d be thrilled. Now, I’m only relieved. That worry is gone, only to be replaced with a different kind of strain.

When I get home, I’ll have time before I have to start working again. Reilly called Jimmy about the stuff that came up in the home inspection. Since everyone heard what happened to me, he told her he’d take care of the repairs. He also wanted her to make sure I knew the job was waiting for me whenever I was ready. He didn’t want me to stress out about it.

Now that I don’t have a mortgage payment and I don’t have to pay the closing costs out of pocket I have time. Time to talk to the guys who also made it off that rig, and time to mourn the ones who didn’t.

To anyone else, Jake looks fully healed. That’s only on the outside, though. It’s been six weeks since the explosion.

For him, it still seems like it was only yesterday. There was a memorial for the men who died that we attended.

Erik’s remains were flown back to Denmark for his funeral. Jake was still in the hospital when it was held, and not being able to say goodbye to his friend has taken a toll.

It’s like he’s ashamed that he lived and Erik died. There’s a term for it—survivors guilt. Reilly has tried to talk him into seeing a therapist but he won’t do it.

I don’t know what to do.

He just seems to be going through the motions. Every night, I fall sleep in his arms. The week we had together before he went back to the rig, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. Now, we kiss and hold hands but the spark is gone.

He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, but I could just as easily be in a relationship with a cardboard cutout. He’s there, but he isn’t, and I don’t know what to do to bring him back.

I cut the engine, unclick my seatbelt and reach across the console to grab my purse from the passenger seat. A quick glance around the parking lot and I notice Jake’s truck isn’t there.

He bought a used one cheap, paid cash for it a week or two ago. It’s only a single cab and has a crap paint job, but it gives him the freedom he didn’t have when he always had to borrow either Reilly’s Jeep or my car.

If I text him to let him know I’m home will he think I’m smothering him? It’s not like we’ve argued or anything, it might be all in my head. Deciding not to text him, I head inside.

Reilly is also out so the apartment, which sometimes feels cramped with three people, is now lonely with just me in it. The living room still looks the same. My bedroom and bathroom are the only rooms that show signs of an extra person when he’s gone.

There’s a new-to-us dresser we picked up at a thrift store for most of his clothes. Whatever didn’t fit or needed hanging is now in my closet.

He keeps his toiletries in a travel case. A left over habit he hasn’t broken yet from the rig. It sits on the top of the toilet. Shutting my bedroom door behind me, I strip off my scrubs and change into a pair of yoga pants and a long sleeved stretchy tunic that looks dressier than it feels.

Grabbing my phone from where I dropped it, I reconsider sending Jake a text. Not to bug him but to see if I should start making dinner for the both of us or not.

The sound of the apartment door being opened saves me from that. Crossing my bedroom, I reach for the doorknob only to have it opened.

“Hey,” I say, smiling up at Jake.

He moves through the door and leans down to kiss me. Closing my eyes, I wait for his lips to brush mine but it’s my forehead he kisses.